However, he got the shoe tied at last, and came and took the telegram, glanced over it, then looked up surprised, at Tracy.  There was something in his look that bordered upon respect, almost reverence, it seemed to Tracy, although he had been so long without anything of this kind he was not sure that he knew the signs of it.

The boy read the address aloud, with pleased expression in face and voice.

“The Earl of Rossmore!  Cracky!  Do you know him?”

“Yes.”

“Is that so!  Does he know you?”

“Well—­yes.”

“Well, I swear!  Will he answer you?”

“I think he will.”

“Will he though?  Where’ll you have it sent?”

“Oh, nowhere.  I’ll call here and get it.  When shall I call?”

“Oh, I don’t know—­I’ll send it to you.  Where shall I send it?  Give me your address; I’ll send it to you soon’s it comes.”

But Tracy didn’t propose to do this.  He had acquired the boy’s admiration and deferential respect, and he wasn’t willing to throw these precious things away, a result sure to follow if he should give the address of that boarding house.  So he said again that he would call and get the telegram, and went his way.

He idled along, reflecting.  He said to himself, “There is something pleasant about being respected.  I have acquired the respect of Mr. Allen and some of those others, and almost the deference of some of them on pure merit, for having thrashed Allen.  While their respect and their deference—­if it is deference—­is pleasant, a deference based upon a sham, a shadow, does really seem pleasanter still.  It’s no real merit to be in correspondence with an earl, and yet after all, that boy makes me feel as if there was.”

The cablegram was actually gone home! the thought of it gave him an immense uplift.  He walked with a lighter tread.  His heart was full of happiness.  He threw aside all hesitances and confessed to himself that he was glad through and through that he was going to give up this experiment and go back to his home again.  His eagerness to get his father’s answer began to grow, now, and it grew with marvelous celerity, after it began.  He waited an hour, walking about, putting in his time as well as he could, but interested in nothing that came under his eye, and at last he presented himself at the office again and asked if any answer had come yet.  The boy said,

“No, no answer yet,” then glanced at the clock and added, “I don’t think it’s likely you’ll get one to-day.”

“Why not?”

“Well, you see it’s getting pretty late.  You can’t always tell where ’bouts a man is when he’s on the other side, and you can’t always find him just the minute you want him, and you see it’s getting about six o’clock now, and over there it’s pretty late at night.”

“Why yes,” said Tracy, “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Yes, pretty late, now, half past ten or eleven.  Oh yes, you probably won’t get any answer to-night.”